


Harlots Hidden in Lychees

by Imyoshi



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Latex, Maledom/Femsub, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Moodulators, Neuro-Compliance Chip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imyoshi/pseuds/Imyoshi
Summary: Brainwashing shampoo, Neuro-Compliance Chips, Moodulators, Hypnotic Disco Balls, mind-numbing paintings, and more. Kimberly Ann Possible dealt with loads of mind-altering gadgets in her crime-fighting career, but what-if the villains succeeded in their dastardly plans, enslaved that pesky little head of hers, and used her as a stress reliever? Anything was possible for a Possible.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Harlots Hidden in Lychees

Kim Possible crawled on the floor of Dr. Drakken's hidden underwater base.

An almost common occurrence at this point in her life, air vents and crevices galore, but with a dramatic twist compared to her mission mode, head-in-the-game lifestyle. She crawled not in air ducts but the wide-open floor of his base, entirely exposed and out of her element for any and all to see. Unconventional? Possibly. Not the game changer of the year by any means, however, Kimberly had no choice, not compelled to follow her own train of thought. Not anymore.

Kimberly Ann Possible lost that liberty, alongside all her other freedoms, when she failed her last mission.

Snip-snip! Everything went bye-bye when Drakken placed the Neuro-Compliance Chip on her forehead. Voila. Goodbye, free-thinking, and hello, slave wear. That was how she found herself crawling along the base with every camera watching her every move, wearing the most provocative gear found only in Lowerton's more risque clubs. Once beloved mission attire hung in a glass frame, embedded within her arch-nemesis' throne. In its place, Kim wore her newest outfit, latex leggings that squished midway around her thighs. Similar gloves squeezed around her arms, ending halfway up her arms. Nylon hugged around the softness of her skin, but that troublesome issue of her wardrobe malfunction was the least of her problems. Besides the fiber-hugging material, Kimbo wore a freshly crafted, fashioned gimp mask that blocked out all her senses except for mouth and nose. Her hair popped out the sides of the hood and acted as overly long pigtails. Right on the smack dab middle of her forehead blinked the Neuro-Compliance Chip, embedded into the veil. The menacing reddish glow of the chip got only matched by her Moodulator collar's pinkish hearty flush. Doy. One of Drakken's outsourcing trinkets. The collar itself, sleek and black with the telltale image of a fluttery, lovey-dovey heart implanted within the choker, connected directly with her Neuro-Compliance gimp mask. Separately, the two inventions worked splendidly to control emotions, but together, they created the world's most perfect, submissive slave, and Kim just so happened to be his prized test subject.

Nothing stopped her from removing the items except for the exceedingly simple command of nuh-uh. Simple. Effective. Captivating. Those two words shut her down entirely, trapped her, stripped her of her free will, and she embraced it. Even the piercings on both her erect nipples and belly button acted as amplifiers for her other devices and mini sonars. Everything worked against her scrubbed clean mind, the isolated base, the unmistakable technology, her inability to form a fist and retaliate, yet Kim crawled forward with her head held up high.

Kim knew it was objectively wrong physically, mentally, and emotionally, but the Moodulator flipped a switch that turned that off. Morals and integrity meant nothing to her anymore. Any personal thoughts—that little voice inside her head—gone. Deprivation and complacency became her life. A doll, such as her, needed nothing else but to follow the strings of her puppeteer, even if she instinctively knew it was majorly wrong. All the dopamines bombarding her brain, linked to every order, to every decibel of the corrupted doctor's voice, just had her eagerly obeying every order. She could not fight it.

Not anymore.

Sensory deprivation robbed away the passage of time for her. Once her nemesis planted the chip on her forehead, they effectively abandoned the post and cleaned the base dry before departing, but Kimberly knew a decent chunk of time had passed. Days blurred into weeks before they turned into months. Her sleep cycles became her go-to indicator for keeping track of days. Not that she counted anymore, much too preoccupied with her docile duties.

Resistance was futile. Due to Drakken supercharging both the Neuro-compliance Chip and Moodulator with the Electron Magneto Accelerator, he effortlessly closed off her thoughts. One word from his voice scrubbed her brain clean. Toys only served their master, as he utterly dictated in a singsong tone. With utter devotion and unrequited love filling her empty, little head, resistance had no space. She obeyed with love-shaped pupils. If ordered to clean the lair, Kim sponged away. If directed to cook food, she sizzled and marinated in the spankest of aprons. Best of all, if decreed to give a blowjob, Kim Possible gave it a hundred-and-ten percent, choking, drooling, and slurping all-around before swallowing one of many loads for that afternoon. That included all sexual favors. Drakken had so many for both him and his henchmen—morale boosters her master called them. More times than not, she found herself relieving them of stress, programmed to unconditionally take sexual orders from anyone higher up in the chain of command, and with her resting at the bottom of the totem pole, Kim Possible found herself on her hands and knees plenty. Which brought her to her current predicament, led around the base by a studded leash from Shego, the only slave one step higher than her.

Unlike Little Miss Priss, Miss Go suffered a slightly less fate than the world-famous heroine. The mad scientist had not one but two perfect, slutty slaves at his beck and call. He had, in fact, created two Neuro-Compliance Chips. Shego was already a pet by the time she had scaled that mountainside, and he made sure to remind them both of that by dressing them nearly identical. Compared to her outfit, Shego wore practically a mirror image, minus her color scheme incorporated into the latex, with her hair fashioned into a ponytail, piercings spotted as spikes, and some fashioned bracelets that functioned as Comet Powers suppressors. Some semblance of her personality bypassed the Moodulator's love effects, a byproduct of Shego acting as the mistress slave to her embedded submissive personage and a testament to Shelia Go's nastiness. Blind devotion and love could not erase the way Shego smirked and taunted with haughty grunts every time she grabbed the leash and paddle or used her back as a comfy chair, but witty sarcasm could not override her position or authority in the hidden base. Just like Kimberly, Shelia belonged at the bottom, a mere sex object for relief for Drakken and his henchmen.

Drakken had ordered them to play nice.

Playing included sharing responsibilities, like double-headed blowjobs and orgies and threesomes with their owner, or putting on a show for everyone with tongue-on-tongue action and roaming fingers in the filthiest of outfits. Shego still dominated in those regards, a reward for her years of iffy loyalty. Sometimes they made them wear costumes, other instances involved sex toys. Kimmie very much enjoyed it when Shego used a strap-on and tugged her pigtails to remind her of her place. Still, the point remained that Kimberly found herself crawling through Drakken's lair, wearing skimpy clothing that emphasized her slightly altered, bimbo body, and led around by Shego with a leash, on her hands and knees, like some mindlessly obedient pet, and she absolutely loved it.

The rosy glow of the Moodulator shined so brightly in her bleak existence, working at one-hundred ten percent capacity. Whoosh! Another set of whooshing doors opened, one crawl closer to their destination. A swift tug of the leash and harsh slap on her rear had Kimmie picking up the pace for their nutritious breakfast. Shego hmphed in that teasing way that just said that the edges of her lips curled. Kim found herself doing the same, mouth curved with her throat parched and appetite wet. Breakfast always watered her mouth, doubly so with its location. Whoosh! The final set of metallic doors opened, revealing Drakken's private corridors with their owner sitting at a glass table, waffle house steamy on a plate of flapjacks and side glass or pulp-free orange juice. 

Sitting at his throne, an intimation of a king's chair, he smirked and relaxed with his back pressed against the cushiony seat. Not a word left his mouth, the clearing of his throat more than sufficed, and Shego dragged the leash for a helpless but eager Kim to follow. One step, two steps, three steps, and four. Shego herself maneuvered around the see-through table, standing at attention by Drakken's side with her arms crossed under her tits to emphasize their bounciness, but Kim crawled underneath the glass desk to consume her breakfast. A healthy dose of all-natural seed, courtesy of the doctor, acted as her morning protein shake. Practiced hands made quick work of the zipper, out sprung her prize in all its magnificent blue manhood, twitching with Bonnie-level angry veins, but she refrained from slobbering. Until ordered to suck and swallow, Kim waited impatiently, drooling when he pressed the member right onto her face so that the musky stench could wreak havoc with her nose.

Drakken cackled at the display through the see-through table.

One hand came underneath to pat her affectionately on the head while the other cut a square into his pancake fort. Kim knew what came next. Time for Dr. Drakken's daily rant about how his unparalleled genius was her inevitable downfall, monologuing while she all the while choking on blue cock. Every morning it happened, a daily routine that quickly became the norm in the underwater lair. Kimberly savored the moments. Thickly sticky supplements were her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, her newest favorite meal. Occasionally Shego partook in sharing her sloppy seconds, a glutton just like her, possibly a bigger pervert, but those usually turned into feuds between lover-enemies with heaps of tongue wrestling and cheek smashing. One of them always got sent away to the henchmen barracks for discipline and re-education training for fighting in a family-friendly secret lair. While Kimmie and Shego hated disappointing their master, spending quality time in the barracks for positive reinforcement always made for some delicious fun.

She still vividly remembered, dreaming about it, the first time Dr. Drakken explained to the henchmen about his newest incentive program. After the hellbent scientist claimed both Kim and Shego for their first threesome and night together, he had introduced them in their current attire to the budding crew and announced their roles in the grand scheme of things. When he left them to chat and mingle, Shego and Kim enjoyed a whole day of stretching, hole filling, and revenge-inducing sex that included photos and apology blowjobs. Many of them hung around the lair, and their favorite was with Kim and Shego sprawled out on their knees, throwing peace signs while covered head-to-toe in cum, sharing a bridge of spit between one another, and the two henchwomen had loved every second of it.

"Kim Possible! Glad you could join me for breakfast." Drakken sipped juice. "I hope you're hungry. Today's breakfast is going to be an extra-thick one."

Kim sniffed the fleshy aroma with her tongue rolled out. "Famished."

"Well? What are you waiting for, Possible? Dig in."

Kimmie attacked the length like a possessed, slutty cheerleader, licking the base at a sluggish pace before wrapping her lips around the mushroom head of her treat. Experienced head bobbing soon ensued, with Drakken getting a bountiful view of her thumping backside and rear through the glass table. Throat-filling sounds filled the room, encompassed by haggard choking, groaning, and mild snickering from her owner. Gone went her self-respect! Total humiliation nation followed the once recognizable heroine, now nothing more than a submissive whore who spent her time on her hands and knees, and still, she gave it her all as Drakken gloated to the mindwiped Shego.

Drakken enjoyed mocking her at every opportunity.

How the great Kim Possible had fallen, he proclaimed with her lips parted around the bigness of his meat. Genetic manipulation at his finest. Her sore jaw more than once bothered her, alongside the rubber ball gags he fancied, but a stretched throat and awkward lips quickly became her norm in this hidden base of sexual depravity. Practice made perfect, and check her name because she excelled in everything. 

So not the drama. 

She sunk deeper, suppressing her gag reflex with the choker expanding to the size. Droplets of pre-flavor seed trickled into her mouth, mixing with drool and spit, creating a texture to an acquired taste she came to savor. Blowjobing turned into deepthroating. Hardened meat throbbed so violently in her mouth, so close to orgasmic bliss, that she refused to allow herself any breathing room before she managed a dose of her supplements. Breakfast was a vital part of any pet's day, and Kimmie had no intention of missing her mid-morning protein shake. So close. So close! Kimberly slumped to the very base, applying tongue-on shaft action as she gradually came up for air, right before slapping her jaw down again. All of this went on for a gracious few minutes, applying a coat of cherry bomb lipstick to an otherwise blue appendage.

Twitching foretold the upcoming eruption, and Drakken waved his hand dismissively. "Shego. Why don't you go see if the henchmen have any need of your services."

"Yes, Dr. Drakken."

Licking underneath the shaft, Kim savored the rare peace between her and breakfast, internally glad she did not have to share a single morsel. Redoubling her efforts as Shego's soft steps grew further away, once the doors went whoosh, Drakken grabbed her pigtails and effectively used them as handlebars to screw her face. Kim savored the thrill. She choked, moaned, groaned, and hiccupped, creating a layer of drool over the throbbing member with her throat repeatedly stretching. Firmer, faster, deeper, Kimberly met each forceful impact with her I Can Do Anything attitude. The hair pulling excited her more, always soaking wet by Drakken's orders. Slurp! Suck! Mmmm! Kim offered her best spitshine with her butt bouncing at the other end of the table.

Then he shoved her nose to the base of his cock and kept Kim there as a torrent of her breakfast filled her throat.

Drop by bitterly salty drop, Kim swallowed the first of many loads today, enthralled by the acquired taste of Drakken's seed. So much filled her throat that it blew up her cheeks from the volume. Praise genetic manipulation! Some even spilled out her mouth, dripping down her chin from how overly compacted and fertility potent he engineered his cum, and she still greedily swallowed the spurts. With her diet focused on the tangy, ropey deliciousness of his seed, Kimmie refused to spit. It was far too greedy and wasteful to throw away such a delectable meal, primarily after she worked so hard to drain it dry from the source. Only when the twitching ceased, and when she had her fill with an appetizer, did Kim release the hardened dick with an audible pop. Drool and leftover cum covered his throbbing mass, and the only thing preventing her from offering a thorough tongue lashing was practiced routine.

Drakken relaxed into his throne, allowing Kim to breathe in the odor of sex. Bitter aftertaste lingered. It hung around with a salty flavor, stench overpowering. She chewed her lips, mindlessly pressing her face against Drakken's cock with her master enjoying the view of her submissive self. A fresh cup of orange juice later with some bites of his waffles, too, and Drakken was raring for a second round with all the vitamin C needed, except this time, he ordered Kim to spread her legs on the glass table.

Cheerleader-toned legs moved in a blur.

Kim laid her body against the glass, used her hands to spread her ass cheeks alongside her legs, dripping wet already. There was no shame. Not an ounce of dignity for the once-proud Invincible Girl. Only a cheap harlot remained with bouncy boobs squishing upon the glass and flippy hair more than ready to be used as handlebars. She gulped upon feeling his cock pressing against her entrance, so wet, so horny, Kimmie almost pushed it inside herself. None of that was needed. He swiftly grabbed her wrists and pulled her back, slamming her butt against his pelvis and thus stretching her walls with his genetically widened girth. Arching her back was something of instinct, more so with her tongue thrashing out, and then Drakken started pounding away at her. Each hit forced her on her toes. Every thrust slapped skin. Kim Possible just moaned, breeding stock to his breeding bull stamina.

Drakken thrust violently, trading comfort for animalistic pleasure that involved using her arms as handlebars. Gentleness? Such a mundane word had no need for his vocabulary. He dominated her in all manners of roughness—downright old-fashioned revenge. Her bubble butt got slapped, her pigtails tugged, and her pussy smashed continuously, but Kim loved it. She cherished every violent thrust, every creamy facial, and all nipple pinching with heart-shaped pupils and an addiction for obeying. So not the drama! Kim drew shallow breaths, using the glass table to hold her weight as each mind-numbing thrust forced her to use her tiptoes.

She uncontrollably moaned when he locked her arms to her back and pressed her head down onto the table, grunting when he leaned closer. So deep! Chewing lips and curling toes followed. Harder. Harder! Kim almost begged for it, dubiously glad when Drakken breathed on her neck from thrusting entirely into her impossible slippery cunt. Every bit of her squeezed hard around him. Her womb ached for seed. Walls wet. He snickered when she stood on her toes, had the gall to push her up against the table so that she wouldn't stay connected to the floor, and cackled like a madman when he whispered into her ear.

"You think you're all that, but you're not."

No response.

Kimmie had none. She only reacted to having her tongue rolling out when Drakken filled her womb to the brink with his seed, cumming alongside her master with her body trembling alongside such a massively genetically enhanced load. Melting white spurted inside of Kim, outside, too, dripping down Kim's shaking thighs and onto the floor where her feet hovered a few inches off the ground. So much. Too much! She shivered, limbs uselessly. The Moodulator glowed in an overdrive hearty-heart-heart hue. Drakken grunted before releasing her arms, still rock hard inside of her with the vitality of a ferocious bunny. Jelly. That was how she described her willpower after such an activity. She could barely breathe with her eyes rolled back underneath the mask, yet Drakken showed little mercy. Easing out of her, leftover cum trickled before he claimed his chair.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Possible?" Drakken all but grinned. "Finish your breakfast."

Breakfast? Right! Kimberly found the strength needed to drop to the floor and ease underneath the table once more. Ex-heroine Kim Possible never said no to another helping of her favorite meal. She patiently waited just as Drakken scootched his chair inside and grabbed the remote for the flatscreen hanging near the wall.

Beyond her breakfast palette, Drakken partook in another routine. Every day, after a thorough fucking, he enjoyed watching the latest gossip and newsreel while she helped herself to a second serving of breakfast and cleanup duty. Missing teen heroine headlines and Summer Gale's in-your-face attitude always excited the crooked doctor. She relished in the four-one-one, too, a brief window to the outside world while she serviced on her hands-and-knees. Even now, Kim licked the floor clean before resuming her breakfast, albeit slower this time to recharge a denser load and listen to the hottest grapevine rumors. 

While Drakken watched the news, she sucked.

Click!

"If you're just tuning in, we're covering the four-month anniversary disappearance of teen hero Kim Possible." Summer Gales informed through a background green screen of Middleton. "Last known whereabouts, Kim Possible was hot on the elusive Dr. Drakken's trail when things went cold. As many know..."

Suck! Choke! Slurp!

"Muahahaha!" Drakken leaned into his chair, turning the volume up. "Hear that, Possible? Your fifteen minutes are here."

Summer Gale added. "We, unfortunately, weren't able to get a comment from Miss Possible's mother, Ann Possible."

Braindead programming, or TV Trash, always found a way to cheer up Drakken, and the following scene had his good mood up by eleven. The news channel flashed to Ann Possible hiding from the news crew, dodging questions, avoiding flashing lights, and using her doctor's coat to block her face. Multiple interviewers screamed for an update, but she refused any inquiries. Security personnel quickly ordered them to vacate the hospital premises. Nonetheless, a wanted photo of Kim Possible appeared on screen with the caption Still Missing printed in bold lettering with a distraught Ann for a side-by-side comparison, and Drakken paused the channel to smirk at the lineup.

He twirled his fingers like all megalomaniac villains, peeking down at Kim's bobbing head. "Hmmm. Ann Possible. For your mother, she looks quite youthful. She would make an excellent toy for my collection, wouldn't you say, Possible?"

What Drakken said created a vivid thought bubble to pop into her brainwashed head as she dragged her tongue from the base to the head of the blue shaft. Her mother? A slave? What would she wear? Something form fitting? Tight? Like a little black dress? Kim pictured her mother prancing about in a French maid outfit with her Moodulator choker working on full blast. She shoved the cock deep into her mouth, choked, and released it with a pop before sucking on the tip and stroking the meat. Saliva and precum dripped down alongside her jaw right before Drakken grabbed her pigtails to screw her face for a second time, and this time, he monologued his newest deviously dastardly plan throughout the facefucking.

"How about it, Possible? Want your mother here? You both could share the honor of pleasuring me as unwilling, doting slaves!"

"Yehg! Mmrgh!"

Kim answered to the best of her abilities with a mouthful of cock. Once Drakken emptied his load into whichever he so chose, it was her duty bound job to clean him up while on the lookout for one more sticky surprise. Part of her brain, the one branded, locked away, and mercilessly brainwashed to serve, warned her to say no to her mother joining, only for the loveable properties of the Moodulator and Neuro-Compliance Chip to gag that voice. It whispered into her sponge of a mind that she loved mother-daughter bonding. Bring Ann over! Mistress Shego wouldn't mind having two Possibles as slaves, her petplay dominated mind said. Two heads were better than one!

Kim Possible could not find any reason to disagree with the idea as a mouthful of cum exploded in her mouth.

Suck, gargle, gulp! Kim swallowed with care. A grander load, grande-size compared to the first, forced much to drip down her jawline. Stickiness meshed with her flawless skin, contrasted vastly by her latex. Too much became unbearable, and it flung out to drench her face in a creamy facial that ended up covering her body. Still, she greedily drowned in the gluttony, licking every drop from his tempered flesh to her skin and the spit-shined floor. Delicious. Pumpkin craved more, another helping fit for a dirty little whore, yet she only pressed her face against the still hardened member, awaiting orders on her knees with Drakken smirking from the other side of the glass table. The way he lightly tugged on her hair told her that she might find herself in the bedroom. A simple-hearted wish, one he denied by releasing her pigtails.

"I'll take your silence as a yes. Very well! Your moving speech has won over my heart." Drakken stood up and rubbed his hands together. "Now, go aid Shego while I create the device you'll be using to capture your mother."

"Yes, Dr. Drakken."

Oh well. Kim crawled out from underneath the table and cleaned herself up before heading out. She walked with a skip in her step and stretched grin—while the gimp mask hindered her ability to see, her master engraved the blueprints of the lair's infrastructure into her Compliance Chip. Finding her location became child's play in the darkness of her latex imprisonment, but she shuddered in that oh-so-special way that had her heart soaring. Possible just loved aiding the henchmen. Morale boosting became her favorite activity next to relieving Dr. Drakken, a generous benefactor to brute roleplay and soothing stress. So much so that she walked past the empty, easy-to-use escape pods, then moved beyond the free-hands teleporter, and brushed aside the not-password-protected S.O.S. mega computer without care. The deeper she traveled, the louder the communal room echoed in the underwater lair. Grunts, moans, and groans grew louder with each skip, and she playfully crossed her arms behind her back when the sliding doors went whoosh.

Lo and behold! Shego attended to the group of henchmen by being spitroasted from two overly large brutes. One slammed into her from behind, pulling against her ponytail, while the other filled her throat and expanded that indestructible choker. She stood on the edge of her heels, using her hands to give two adjacent henchmen handjobs. None of that slowed them down. Skin slapped against green flesh, Shego had her walls stretched and mouth filled from endless pounding with a line of others awaiting their turn, and her hands blurred from stroking such energetic cocks. All too soon, they filled her holes, giving her the double-stuffed cream filling that she so rightfully deserved. The dicks she jerked covered her skin with a rich enamel, and she leaned there, covered and sticky, swallowing the load. Stuffed on the inside, and glazed on the out, Shego stepped away to service the next group until Kimmie made her presence known.

"Ahem!" Kim announced, twirling in place. "Dr. Drakken has ordered me to aid you, Shego."

Kim smiled when all the henchmen celebrated with cheers all around! They hollered, they leered, all except Shego. She just scooped up some cum from her body and shared it with her by dabbing it over her lips. The kiss that followed had all the henchmen grunting like wild beasts, turned them into savaged brutes looking to claim these horny bunnies as breeding stock, and yet Kim could only focus on sharing a heated tongue-battle with her once arch-nemesis. It lasted only a few moments, gone right before she savored the taste on Shego's lips, only for her mistress to buckle down and circle her like prey. Vicious hands roamed her body from behind. 

"Excellent." Shego dawdled before biting the nape of her neck. "Hoorah."

Kim effortlessly dropped to her knees with the help of a greedy Shego pressing upon her shoulders. Then Shego joined her on the floor, resting a palm against her cheek and upon her thigh, a trained signal for Kimmie to hold up her arms in a begging position. She instantly obeyed. Perky nipples stood at attention from the way Shego snuck a few digits to finger her for all to see. There they both rested on their knees in front of all the henchmen, awaiting orders like well-trained pets. Smirks all around, a few whistled. A group ultimately came forward and dragged Shego away for a second spit-roasting, leaving her to deal with three imposed packages just waiting for a cock hungry slut to start sucking. She never disappointed, reaching out to stroke two members and engulf the third as Dr. Drakken worked on another chip to enslave her mother.

Kimberly Ann Possible loved the sound of that evil plan almost as much as she cherished the three-way facial she received from the first of many henchmen.  
...

Working late nights became the norm for Ann Possible. After Kimberly vanished on that last mission months ago, she buried many hours into her work to stop fretting and allow Wade, Ron, and Global Justice to find her Bubble-Butt Princess, but as the days lingered on by, she lost sleep. Pacing around a semi-quiet home helped not in the least, and seeing the longed faces of her family members worsened things, so she threw herself into busy-busy bee hospital work until she passed out from exhaustion. By now, most residents and nurses knew of the sitch, so whenever she traveled up for some shuteye at one of the more secluded break rooms, no one batted an eyelash. Ann wouldn't mind if they dropped their worried glances and sideways stares, but beggars could not be choosers, and an out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality quickly became her go-to method of dealing with stress.

That and the on-call mattress sounded so comfortable.

Throwing the door open, Ann never checked her surroundings, never peeked at the corners, remained promptly unaware of her background, and just shut the door and crashed head first onto the nearest bed. Thump! Sweet pillow, how she missed the cotton-linen blend of goose feathers. Lumbering sleep darkened her vision, dimmer and bleaker until her eyelids closed. Something creaked in the background, an orderly deathly afraid of her perhaps, and she shoved it into the darkest corner of her mind and slept. At least, Ann attempted to sleep, hammered awake by a teasing giggle and all too familiar phrase that almost had her up and running.

"What's the sitch, mom?"

The human brain was a marvelous organ. It healed pain, blocked bruised memories, fired neurons, removed traumas, but pros always came with cons. A weakened and heartbroken mind played tricks, spilled out poisoned lies, and deliberately projected false credit to deceive. As a leading brain surgeon, Ann knew all this. What's the sitch? Humph. Just another defense mechanism of a battered system, so she ignored the giggling background to drift away or at least tried to, but the humming grew increasingly louder. Sigh. The faster she acknowledged the illusions, the quicker she slumbered. Slightly turning her head on the pillow, this time, she, in fact, rose when she spotted Kimberly's face in a shadowy corner of the room.

"Kimberly?"

"Mother."

Kim walked out the shadowy corner, closing the distance between them. A flutter of emotions pelted the neuro-surgeon's aching stomach. Panic. Relief. Guilt. More than once, she rubbed her sore eyes, blinking away the tears as Kim stood just a few feet from her with her hands drawn to her backside. It felt like a beautiful dream. Ann openly smiled the widest in months and threw her hands up in a hug me gesture.

"Kimberly! You're back! You're—!" Ann paused, gulping with her relief washing away. "W-What's that on your forehead?"

Miss Possible only played dumb. She knew the Neuro-Compliance Chip when she saw it, briefed on the mission specs by Kimmie's tech-savvy friend, and once she noticed the disciplinaries, more of Kim's appearance came into focus. Months of disappearance did not make a chest swell up like that, and what happened to her standard mission crop top? Someone snipped the bottom half so that a substantial amount of underboob popped out from underneath, even rimming with the pink of her areolas exposed just marginally, pressed with her erected, pierced nipples rubbing the fabric. What about that contraption around her neck? What did that heart signify? Questions, inquiries, things of the sort, Ann had many of them, except her biggest fear was the microchip attached to Kimmie's forehead.

Her daughter stood right before her, slave of both body and mind.

"That is not important." Kim droned with a haunting smile. She held out a Neuro-Compliance Chip. "Dr. Drakken will see you now."

Things happened so fast that Ann wished she took more power naps rather than coffee breaks. Kimmie had crossed the room in one fell swoop, transitioning from standing to lunging to tackling to her struggling by cupping Kim's wrists as her daughter attempted to press the chip to her forehead with an innocent demeanor. Kicking her feet about proved useless as anything below her waist got trapped by Kim straddling her, crushing weight and a vigorous body pressed against one running on fumes. Somehow she found her voice just dry. No one was nearby to hear the struggle between the two Possible women, and that chip got ever so closer to her forehead. Years of missions and cheerleading made Kimmie's muscles superior, while her neglected health returned with a vengeance, something Ann only loathed now with the chip a mere inch from her forehead. When she finally found the inner strength to scream out for help, it ended. Kim Possible overpowered her mother and pressed the chip to her forehead, and this time she grabbed Ann's hands to prevent her from trying to remove it.

Many things happened all at once.

Blue pupils shrunk while staring at wholesome greens. Fruitlessly she struggled to resist the mind-numbing toxins invading her brain, withering her head and clenching her jaw, but it was all for naught. Science worked its magic. That sounded impossible—as a board-certified neuro-surgeon, I've got to say it's just not possible to swap brains—but even Ann forgot about her family's motto. Anything was possible for a Possible. How much she hated that saying with Kimmie's hair in her face, but it was the only thing her exhausted mind could think about as her last shred of free will got overridden by a high-tech computer virus. Feet struggling came to a gradual stop, Kim effortlessly pressed her arms onto the bed, and the beeping of the Neuro-Compliance Chip signaled a successful connection.

A numbness brainwashed Ann Possible.

Kimberly Ann Possible whispered into her ear to meet her on the roof in five minutes, sneaking away while Ann obeyed without question, and not a single doctor dared to check up on her when she disappeared for what appeared to be an overnight long nap.  
...

Slave Shego stood at attention with a studded collar attached to her hip and the spiked leash connected to Kim's all-fours position. Background music set the mood as Drakken tinkered and hummed an Oh Boyz sound to his work. What their owner fixated on was the latest addition to his harem of annoyances, configuring the properties of a brand spankin new Moodulator to just the right dial. Setting the moods fascinated the doctor—and occasionally, when his scientific mind wandered, he flipped Kim and Shego's Moodulators to different emotional outputs to see the effects on a Neuro-Compliance slave. Having Kim Possible ride him when angry quickly became a guilty pleasure, but nothing trumped unthinking worship.

Speaking of unthinking worship, Drakken glanced at his newest toy.

Spellbound; that was the only word to describe Ann Possible's predicament. Robotic. Functional. So many synonyms, so gloriously devious. Drakken smirked in all his creativity, relished in his bravo. She remained motionless in the center of the laboratory, wearing her signature doctor's coat with the front end hanging open, showing what little she wore underneath in pale, soft flesh. Just like her precious Kimmie-cub, Drakken draped her custom wardrobe in a trophy case next to Kim Possible's Mission dreads and Shego's Go outfit over the lair's mantle, but he kept the cavity-inducing goodies in his private lab.

"Just a few more modifications, and the Moodulator collar will be complete." Drakken ranted with his science-y goggles zooming into the motherboard. Then he jumped to his feet when the device wheezed on. "Ah-ha! Finished!"

One-two! Drakken spun on his feet, holding the emotional-controlling choker in all its splendid, evil wonder. Some malicious cackling followed suit as he laid his eyes on his unwilling test subject. His awaiting pet stayed silent, already fashioned with a latex hood with the Neuro-Compliance Chip glowing in one-hundred percent capacity. When it came to Ann's gimp mask, Drakken fashioned the restricting material to have an opening for her shorter hair to flow out from the top. Still very sleek, oh-so-very black, latex made the slave, and Ann stayed quiet as instructed with her full lips a thinned line. Muahahaha! Wasting his merry time, the crazed scientist skipped over to her figure and snapped the collar along the rim of the mask to prevent removal. Clink! Clank! Snap! Voila! Then he stepped back, pressed a hidden remote from his coat pocket, and stretched his manic grin the second the cupid heart appeared on the circuit board.

Luscious pink filled the room for a brief respite, and he watched, observed the way those stretched lips relaxed and body untensed. Rigidness washed away, alongside that pesky resistance of hers, comforting by the minutes, and Drakken leaned on his workbench with his arms crossed. He took some sick glee in the fact that her brain, the one object Ann Possible cherished, got overwritten by his outsourcing genius. It was, by definition and the code of Villainy one-o'-one, bragging rights.

"Remove your coat."

The order cascaded over her thoughts like an echoing chamber, carried by a dominating tone with a soothing voice. Ann obeyed with heart-shaped pupils and pink-hued irises controlling and brainwashing her cerebellum. Tender hands pulled the labcoat away, shouldering and brushing fabric off her shoulders before her fingers loosened. It fell to the floor, and he whistled. Similar to Kim and Shego, Ann wore latex gloves and platform, thigh squeezing boots. Her piercings included half a circle, the main difference compared to Kimmie's spheres and Shego's spikes, and a pierced clit because why not. Nothing else differential the three sex slaves. All three of them just awaited orders, primed to serve, suck, and swallow in that order. Only Drakken gloated first, walking around his past crush while playing with her hair.

"Well, Ann, I hope you enjoy your stay at casa Drakken because you're never leaving. And not only will you be our loyal slave, but our resident doctor, too! Muahahaha!"

"Yes, Dr. Drakken."

He waggled his finger. "Uh-uh! Call me, Drew."

"Yes, Drew."

Then he rubbed his hands together. "Good, good. Shego! Activate the cameras! Then come over here and fluff me. As a welcoming present, how about a home video? Possibles! Makeout with each other. Really get into it."

Ha. Ha-ha! Drakken couldn't contain himself. Everything he ever dreamed of was coming to glorious fruition. With both Kim Possible and Ann Possible as his mindless zombies and Shego no longer a thorn on his side, he could and would enact his greatest revenge with the most tactical blackmail material to boot! Insurance just in case something started going awry.

Shego swayed her hips toward her former boss, licking her lips similar to that of a dominatrix. Even with the gimp mask, her impish smirk showed her predatory glare through the fabric. Every step forward bounced her bountiful tits, so perky with the greenest of nipples, Drakken thanked his sticky notes for reminding him not to wear pants. She knew what she did. Crossing her arms was not a formality—Shego just loved to show off her fattest assets. Better yet, Shego sunk halfway through her stroll to drop down onto her knees, purred like a feline, and crawled toward him in purposeful long strides that arched her back and flexed her heart-shaped ass in all the right ways. By the time she reached her treat, the veins were pulsating so vigorously that if she backed away right now, Drakken would ironically end up with a case of the blue balls. That never happened.

Shego inhaled the aroma of a cum-filled dick, pressing her nose to tempered flesh with her simper growing ever so slightly. One quick smack of her lips followed, suited by a second and third. Each kiss lasted longer, moving higher, sampling for more until she reached the head. Then she waited by licking the mushroom-shaped snack and held her tongue there to glare helplessly at her owner on her knees with her forearms pressing her chest together. What a sight! Drakken failed to hold back, grabbed her by the back of her head, and forced her to blow while rolling the cameras with his one freed hand.

"And action!"

Kim and Ann moved. The taller redhead grabbed her daughter's marshmallow-soft cheeks and pulled her close, with Kimmie grabbing handfuls of her mother's breasts. They embraced. They resisted for what felt like an eternity but was only a matter of seconds before tender lips met. Morality took a dive after that. Taboo—sweet, magnificent taboo—had them furiously swapping spit in front of many cameras. The older, more experienced Possible took the lead, dominating her daughter in all manners of tongue wrestling, spit swapping, and hand groping. Resistance meant nothing. Ann pressed her to the nearest wall, crushing her breasts with hers, and held Kimmie's wrists above her head while she controlled every aspect of Kim's body. Pierced nipples brushed against one another, a bridge of spit connected them when they came up for air, everything blackmail material got recorded for Drakken's private use, and he relished every second of it.

Things only got better when Shego's expert skills in blowing began to show.

Pleasure became too much. Looking down, Drakken aimed a separate camera to capture the moment of Shego's bobbing head. The black smudge of Shego's trademark kissy-kissy goo lipstick smirched all over the saliva-covered schlong. Inch by glorious cock sucking inch, Shego dwelled deeper, choked harder, and gagged wider as Drakken recorded the Possible women makeout with manic glee. Twiddling fingers gripping the camera wobbled, a troubled focus not too uncommon nowadays.

"Possibles! You think you're all that, you're not even close, but I am!"

Unlike Possible, Go showed viciousness in her oral play, a downright ruthless possessiveness attributed to her Shego-style nastiness. Jealousy or competitiveness, Drakken wasn't sure exactly why, but the unrequited devotion the Moodulator implanted into Shego's temporal lobe could not overwrite her need to outperform Kim Possible. A byproduct of loathing hatred and undying love, he hypothesis as Shego licked the underside of his cock like a lollipop. Deliberately slow, painstakingly loud, Shego precisely knew how to rile him up just by the merest act of dragging her tongue from the base to the tip with that comet hot breath of hers. Eugh! The overload of cum hit her without warning, painting her gimp mask and mouth with her favorite flavored lipstick. Some even got in her hair. Shego embraced it nonetheless, a glutton for facials, never slowing in her pursuit for pleasure as more twitchy spurts landed on her green skin.

Seeing Shego's cum flavored face stirred something inside Drakken. The way it plastered to her exposed skin and hung off her nose, the contrast of green and white got to him, and he did not want to waste such material. A quick peek around the lair had him zeroing in on the way Ann had Kim swapping spit, from how she slobbered into her mouth to the way Kim swirled her tongue to capture every drop, Drakken suddenly grinned with the most deliciously evil of ideas.

"Let's get this party started." Drakken snapped his fingers. "Ann Possible! Come over here and lick the cum off Shego's face, but don't swallow any."

Just as Ann wrestled Kim into peak submission, had her right where she wanted her slave of a daughter with bruised lips, the older Possible backed away and left a bridge of gooey drool and crawled toward her owner. Poor Kimmie moaned without a body to suck face with, but Drakken compromised and bestowed Ann the gift of cleaning Shego. Oh. Her tongue made short work of the mess, cleaning every spot of skin and latex until nothing remained but a garbled mess in her mouth, to which she presented on her knees as a way of saying task completed. 

He rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Now, go back to making out with your daughter. Make it sloppy. Don't be afraid to use your tongues."

She obeyed with questioning, crawling back with a mouthful of cum. All the cameras captured the moment she got to her feet, the second she pulled Kim up to hers, and the instances when she used her height to her advantage. Ann cradled Kim's head with the gentleness of a mother's touch, tilting her head back ever so slightly. Swish-swoosh, she mixed her spit, Shego's spit, and Drakken's cum in her mouth before opening up. A single trail of saliva, a mixture of all three, gradually spilled down onto Kim's waiting tongue. All the cameras recorded it. Magnified lens zoomed in when Ann casually closed the distance, shortening the bridge until their lips met for another taboo kiss wholly drenched in cum soaked spit. Kim Possible utterly moaned and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck to draw her impossibly closer, falling onto the floor on her back with Ann on top. Something, something taboo. So tantalizing good! She quieted that irrelevant voice in her head for the final time. 

Check her motto!

She was Kim Possible! She could do anything, including sharing a messy cum-flavored kiss with her mother.  
...

In the aftermath of the recorded makeout session, Drakken had ordered Shego to introduce Ann to her fellow henchmen while directing Kim to stay behind. Shego obeyed, attached a leash to Ann's collar, dropped her down to her knees in a petplay invitation, and smacked her ass to move, all the while Drakken enjoyed the backside view of his playthings. He fretted not. Bedroom debauchery would come soon, Drakken already planned to drag Kim away later for some cowgirl fun, but first, he turned to Kim with his fingers laced together in a steeple. She awaited her orders on her knees just as instructed.

"Kimberly Ann Possible, for retrieving your mother and turning her into a most glorious slave, I shall offer you a reward. Name a person, any person you so desire, to be your slave. Go on."

"There is no one. I'm happy to serve you, Dr. Drakken."

Drakken waved his hand with a scoff. "Come now, Possible, this is no time for being modest. Surely there must be someone that catches your fancy."

Seconds passed. Humph. He wondered if perhaps turning off the Moodulator would result in a different answer but paused when Kim's nose wrinkled. Something clicked inside that teenage brain of hers. Drakken just knew it with the way her plastered grin stretched into something resembling a Shego-like smirk. Love was a powerful tool to manipulate the mind, but revenge sometimes overpowered that emotion when presented with the opportunity. After all, greed was human nature. One of the seven deadly sins for a reason.

Kim Possible seized that shooting star opportunity for her own selfish needs.

"Bonnie Rockwaller."

**Author's Note:**

> For all those wondering and perverted, I commissioned an art piece to go along with this story by the talented artist Clariarikari.


End file.
